I'm dumping you for Nigella
by m.tarnina
Summary: Six. Mel. An obscure Polish dessert (okay, cakes of this type are much more popular in the Anglosphere, so not so obscure for you, but). Revenge is best served with a sprinkling of sugar. Crossover with Dennis Shasha's Mathematical Detective stories.
Among Ecco's numerous acquaintances the Doctor might have been the most colourful one.

He would appear from time to time, out of the blue, to challenge the mathematician to a friendly game of chess that often went on long after midnight, and Ecco never refused. No matter how important his work at the moment was, even if the fate of the world depended on the solution he was seeking, he always had time to play chess with this Doctor in a motley coat.

As far as I know, each of them won about the same number of matches.

That afternoon, the rain relentlessly battering the windows, the two geniuses were squinting over a board and chessmen made of horn and carved bone, shimmering and smooth as silk from long use. The Doctor claimed to have bought the set in York.

On the carpet by their table, surrounded by a colourful mess of pens, highlighters and sticky notes, the fifteen year old Liane and the Doctor's red headed companion, Melanie, sat completely absorbed in the outline of the program Liane was writing. Like the chess players, the girls were communicating by means of grunts and single syllables, and showing each other things on their many sheets of paper. Melanie had pinned a ginger lock of hair above her ear with a paper clip. Liane's was held in place with a slightly chewed pen.

The rain was tapping at the windows. Feeling somewhat alone, I awkwardly fished a paperback novel from the bottom of a closet under the window and lost myself in reading.

* * *

"Is it still raining?" Liane's sudden question pulled me back from the African jungle and into our sitting room.

"Seems so." I said, straightening in my armchair. "You're done already?"

"Yes, and we'd like to eat something, but they" she glanced at her uncle, sighed and shook her head. "They're in their own little world."

The red-headed Melanie joined us at the window.

"As usual" she noted, handing Liane a neat stack of papers.

"We'll have to cook something ourselves."

"Nobody did the shopping" Liane said, exasperated. "It's been a flood out there all day."

"We'll be fine" Melanie said with absolute conviction. "Put these in your room, and I'll raid the kitchen."

The girl nodded before running out, and Melanie threw me a look. "Coming?"

* * *

Before Liane came in, we had finished searching the fridge. It contained a carton of eggs, several carrots and a lemon that seemed a touch softer than it should be.

"This is all we've got" Liane said, shrugging helplessly, but Melanie smiled like the Cheshire cat. She squatted to explore the cabinets.

"We could always have scrambled eggs and carrots" I joked.

A jar full of icing sugar, another small and, seemingly, empty one, and a kitchen scale appeared on the counter. Melanie stood on her toes to get a bag of breadcrumbs and a bottle from the cabinet above. There was a splash of brown rum on the bottom of the bottle.

"Perfect! Almost everything we need. Do we have a nut grinder?"

"We do, but we don't have any nuts."

Melanie tossed her red curls back. "I'll bring some from the TARDIS. You two peel these carrots and grate them, but not too fine."

* * *

As directed by the Doctor's companion, I beat yolks with sugar, while Liane beat the whites. Melanie busied herself grinding the hazelnuts she had brought (to this day I keep wondering how she could come back with the nuts within five minutes time, dry as if she had never left the house).

"Now put it all together, slowly" she said, rolling back her sleeve. "Slowly! A little at a time, Liane. Oh, and a pinch of cinnamon. Yes, that small jar. The carrots, the nuts, the eggs."

"And into the tin!" Liane sang.

"Then into the oven for fifty minutes" Melanie summed up.

"Fifty?" The girl moaned.

"Gives us time to clean up. I got the recipe from a little old lady in Katowice…"

* * *

"... so we left the ship there, and it's going to stay there for a couple years more before they finally get around to taking it back." Melanie finished. Liane laughed out loud.

"What's the nice smell?" the Doctor asked, sticking his head in through the door.

The girls, red-cheeked and merry, were dusting the fruit of our work with icing sugar, filling the kitchen with sweet, sneeze-inducing mist.

"A cake" Melanie said with an exaggerated pout. "Want some?"

"Yes, thank you." The Doctor sat beside me by the set table.

"Have I heard someone say 'cake'?" Ecco asked, walking in.

Liane threw Melanie a scandalised glance, but the red-headed traveller put her finger on her lips.

* * *

The cake was cut, tea was made and all of us grabbed our forks.

"Mmm..." mumbled the Doctor, his mouth full. "I had no idea you could bake, Mel. Delicious! Velvet for the tongue, poetry of the palate, a mellifluous harmony of taste!"

"I'm glad you like it" Melanie smiled sweetly. "I knew sooner or later I would make you like carrots."

The Doctor blinked. He swallowed. With a soft clink he put down his fork.

"Carrots?"

"Well, yes. Silesian carrot cake. Remember Katowice?"

"Carrots? CARROTS?"


End file.
